


Random Works vol 2

by empires



Series: Empires Collected Prompts [6]
Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Car Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Impregnation Kink, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-09-26 16:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empires/pseuds/empires
Summary: More collected tumblr and prompt fics from 2014 to present.01. Jaydick - post mission fluff02. Jaydick - beekeeper au (or the Red Hood Honey AU)03. Jaydick - rooftop fluff04. Jaydick - the vietnam draft au05. Jaydick - the red mobile snippet (explicit)06. Jaydick - knights/royalty au07. Jaydick - post football game au (explicit)08. Jaydick - a/b/o (explicit)09. Jaydick - coffee challenge10. Dickjay - vampire au snippet11. Jaydick - doctor au





	1. Dos Elefantes

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** Jaydick, where they both flirt anywhere, anytime without noticing while everyone else does so the batfam try to get them together but discover that 1) they knew of the other's feelings but not their own 2) they were just making out in the batmovile
> 
>  **Reply** : Happy Monday Anon! You seem to have caught me in a moment of productivity and super positive writing feels. I hope this makes you smile.

Jason finds Dick sitting in the corner of the room, legs stretched in front of him. Three noticeable gashes slice through his uniform revealing shallow cuts and damp, tanned skin. His head moves from side to side slowly and his fingers chase after something in the air. 

“You alright there, Nightwing?”

“’m okay,” Dick mumbles, flopping his head back to peer at Jason. His eyes shine in the sparse light, the pupil dark and swallowing the brilliant blue of his iris. Then he recognizes his would-be rescuer. “Jason! I knew you would be here.”

“That’s funny. I didn’t know I’d be coming until O made me.” Jason crouches pulling a pinlight from his belt and flashing it. Dick moans twisting away. “Sit still you big baby. I’m trying to help you.” Jason catches his chin firmly. “Did you hit your head or something?”

“Toxin. Makes you giddy.”

“The clown was here?”

“No, no. Failed chemist trying to make anti-fear toxins. Not a bad guy, just.” Dick flops back with a sigh. “I wanna get out of here.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Can you stand?”

“Help me.” Dick’s motor skills are definitely shot because the arm he tries to wrap around Jason’s shoulder flails wildly before careening into the wall. It’s just the right flavor of pathetic that makes Jason step in. He settles Dick into a comfortable position for carrying, at least he tries. Dick’s skeletal system seems to have achieved bread loaf consistency.

“You’re just a boozy broad right now aren’t you, boy blunder?” 

Instead of replying, Dick opens his arms wide making grabbing motions with his hands. “Jason, hup, hup!”

Jason knocks the offending hands away. “I’m not an elephant, Dick.”

Dick considers him for a long moment, then grins. “I saw you in the shower once. Your trunk is very long.” He pets Jason’s helmet. “Don’t worry. It’s a good thing.”

Jason pauses feeling stunned and flattered and embarrassed all at once. 

“I literally have nothing to say to that.” He stands, grunting a little, and made the necessary adjustments to cradle Dick comfortably in his arms.

The biotech building is several stories tall and without power, which means he and Nightwing are about to travel down several flights of stairs. Once again, Jason questions his affiliation with this band of narrow-minded do-gooders who seem to like nothing more than make his life miserable while standing by being judge-y judge when it comes to his own questionable life decisions. 

They’re a couple floors away from the rear entrance when Dick speaks again, breath warm against Jason’s throat.

“I’m sorry for peeking. But it was so big. I have never. And you were in the shower. Everything was.” Dick makes a helpless little sound. “Wet.”

Jason snorts. “You’re sounding real thirsty right now, wonder bread. Maybe you should keep some of this to yourself.”

“Okay,” Dick says simply, tucking his head under Jason’s chin. His breathing slows immediately. “I am sorry.”

Jason takes a half second to glance down at his almost brother, his sometimes partner. The standard he never managed to reach. Sometimes, it was frustrating. Other times, Jason found the slice of perfection in bungling up his life endearing, like the drool collecting in the corner of Dick’s mouth. Until it spilled over to ruin his pristine jacket. Then the guy was really fucking annoying. He tilts Dick’s head back a little then traces the curve of his jaw. And sometimes, Jason wondered–

“Apology accepted,” Jason says after a moment, then mumbles under his breath, “Not sure I even mind.” 

“You know that this feed is live, right?” Babs cuts in, sounding like she’s speaking through a very snotty cold. Or laughter. “I’m monitoring this.”

“Well, yeah? I knew that. This is an emergency.” Jason lies glad that he had the presence of mind (and training) not to jump as if scalded. He’s totally forgot about the peanut gallery. Not that it really matters. “Unless there’s something you’d like to confess too, O?”

“As if I’d ever stoop so low as to sneaking into the boy’s bathroom. Especially when all you need is a keen eye for detail. If we calculate the length of your gait,” She continues completely derailing Jason’s next step, which almost sends him and his lush cargo tumbling. “And your inseam—“

Jason feels a deep heat around his collar and cheeks. “What’ll it take for you to stop this conversation?” 

“Promise me you’ll safely tuck the boy wonder in when you get home.”

“I’ll even make him soup. He’ll like that.”

“I think he’d prefer pancakes if we’re sharing morning after tips.”

“O, we are never having that kind of conversation.”

“Oh, I think we’re going to need to one of these days, Jason. Help clear the air.” She sounds fairly serious. It’s a little unnerving. “It’ll do us all some good if you just put the boy out of his misery. At least tone down the flirty banter.” 

Has everyone been following Dick’s clearly confused sexual awakening? Knowing Dick Grayson, probably. It’s not like Jason’s been encouraging him or anything, but he’s not going to back down from a challenge and verbal sparring with a consummate flirt like Dick is a challenge. But it’s not like he wants to act on it or anything. Half the time he couldn’t stand the self-righteous ass.

“I’m going to stop you right there, and say, no, and also, mind your own business, you red-headed biddy. And for the record, this right here? Doesn’t even come close to flirting with Dick Grayson.”

“So, you have been flirting!”

Jason stares into the middle distance, a flush spreading across his cheeks. “Red Hood out.”

“Oh, come on, Hood!”

“Red Hood out!” Jason snaps, cutting the connection.

He stumbles to the ground floor and heaves a heavy sigh. In his arms, Dick rests fully asleep, the slightest curve to his lips. “I don’t even know why I put up with you.”


	2. Tupelo Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** I wish you could write a fic... about Jason todd being a bee keeper and trying to woo Dick an obscene amount of honey.
> 
> The amount of love I have for this tiny blurb is so sad because after all this time, I still have no idea how to make it longer!

It must be Dick’s terrible timing that always places him in the building’s stairwell when Jason Todd trudges up, a hangdog expression on his handsome face. Dick smooths back his hair and waits for Jason to reach the landing before calling to him.

“Any luck today, Jason?”

Jason offers Dick a weary smile. “Some. I managed to sign the health food store in Meadow Park.”

“That’s great news,” he says. He knows how hard Jason works not only maintaining a healthy bee colony, but also distributing his honey around the neighborhood. He nods towards the wooden box resting in Jason’s hands. “Samples?”

“My last box, actually,” Jason says, continuing to climb. “I sold the rest at today’s market.” Jason reaches their shared floor and stops. “Would you like some? I mean, if you don’t, it’s fine, but this is a special batch.”

It doesn’t help that Jason’s gaze becomes so soft and clear every time he offers Dick honey like he’s excited and embarrassed to even ask. Dick can’t say no to that face, not that he’d even try. “Of course.”

Jason hands him the whole box, smile picture perfect in the golden light. Their hands brush and Dick swears he feels a jolt of electricity, a spike to his awareness enhancing all his senses. And he feels the whorls of Jason’s fingertips and inhales the crisp scent of smoke and citrus that follows Jason.

Jason says, “You should really let me know what you think about this one.”

“I will,” Dick says, voice equally quiet. They stare at each other a moment longer before taking slow steps away from one another. “Later, Jay.”

Jason flashes another smile over his shoulder before pushing into his apartment. “Night, Dick.”

Dick enters his own door feeling like he’s walking on air.

“Well,” he sighs, a soft smile on his lips. “I guess it’s teatime.” He opens this box revealing six jars of honey. He pulls a fresh jar free and holds it up. Inside, a warm golden honey pools enticingly inside the little glass jar. He turns the glass delighted to see a new logo on the top and pasted to the sides. Red Hollow Honey, it reads, with a tough looking bee fluttering over a white flower.

After preparing his tea, Darjeeling and a teaspoon of honey, Dick opens the kitchen pantry where nearly a dozen identical boxes sit neatly on the shelf. There’s no way he’s going to use all this honey no matter how good it is. Dick decides to take some jars to work. He reaches for his paper lunch bag. The jars are small, but he thinks it might look cute standing inside there with Jason’s logo on the top. He grabs a thick black marker from the table and begins casually writing co-workers names wondering if this packaging counts as shabby chic. Dick looks at his hand writing. It’s certainly shabby.

Dick pulls out another honey jar and begins placing them in lunch bags. He pauses when he gets to the fourth jar, a smile growing so wide his cheeks hurt. There’s a white slip of paper wrapped around this jar with the angry bee looking bashfully over a bouquet of wild flowers. A tiny speech bubble hangs above his head with two words.

_Bee mine?_


	3. a softer world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt** : JayDick prompt, asofterworld inspired "I'm texting you at 2am because I want to make out" <3

Jason receives the message at the end of his pitched fight when the bodies are heaving on the ground. The aches in his fist and the faint ringing in his ears has Jason vaguely rethinking this whole non-lethal thing when he realizes, no, the noise is an incoming communication. The encryption starts the instant he acknowledges the sender with a curt command. A blue emblem flashes across his left eye and the message begins to decode.

He and Dick have been communicating lately, regularly even, trading information back and forth. It’s a natural extension of their relationship, a sign of the tentative trust blooming. Red Hood hears a rumor underground and sends a flare for Nightwing to find. Nightwing uncovers a plot outside of his territory, and he sends word to Red Hood.

This was not one of those messages.

_I’m texting you at 2am because I want to make out <3_

The best thing about the Red Hood ensemble is the helmet. Hands down it’s the single best design achievement of Jason’s life. It took time, a lot of rage and effort, but eventually, Jason reached a point where the hood was functional and, dare he say it, fashionable. The core design principle is still the most important aspect of the helmet though. It hides his face keeping the flushed ears and embarrassed grimace from the world.

"What the hell type of message is that, N?" Jason mutters.

Heaving a sigh, Jason closes the message. A grunt sounds from beneath his boot. Jason tightens the nylon around his latest bounty and rolls the man to his side. He sneers at Jason, bloody nose wrinkling.

“You’re in the middle of bustin’ my ass and you stop to take a message?” 

“Yeah,” Jason snarls. “I am. You ever heard of multitasking?”

“Course I have. What do you take me for? A moron?”

“No, I take you for five six figures and the pleasure of your company. I’m in a way, right now, and you don’t want to get caught in it. So, keep it shut, smartass.”

The second message comes before he’s finished speaking.

_He’s already caught though 😊_

Jason’s head snaps up. Clouds cover the night sky casting long shadows over the city skyline. Plenty of places to hide. He drags the final dealer to the corner where he ties them together head to toe like cords of wood. After giving a jaunty wave to the slow groans and cursed threats behind him, Jason takes to the rooftops.

Dick is easy to find if only because he’s standing at the building’s center illuminated by the only strand of moonlight in the whole fucking city. Never let it be said that Dick Grayson won’t bend the world for his performances. The world probably doesn’t mind, not like Jason used to, not as much as his hollow complaints would have led people to believe. Probably, Jason has a bit of theater in his blood too or at the very least learned it from the greatest dramatic personalities on Earth. He barrels across the rooftop like a freight train refusing to slow down when he sees the tiny smirk on Dick’s mouth, the one that says he’s so pleased with himself. Jason doesn’t stop when Dick’s hops back a step or when he slides his hands over Jason’s shoulders laughing breathlessly as he’s swept back into the darkness.

“I laid down some ground rules about this whole communication thing, ‘wing,” Jason says once they’ve come to a stop, Dick’s back resting on the brick wall and his neck cupped gently in Jason’s hand. “Emergencies only. I had to shake that creepy fucking pinky of yours and now you’re trying to act like this deal means nothing.”

Without the white-out lenses, Dick’s eyes sparkle. “How is that not an emergency, I ask you?”

“How is that not a…. Have you always been this shameless?” Jason muses to himself.

Dick’s leg curls around his waist and he hops up shifting until he’s comfortably suspended between Jason and the wall. “It was a different time then,” he says, voice sad. “The medical doctors didn’t discover my shame deficiency until it was too late.”

“So, there’s a cure for all this then?”

Dick’s eyes wander down and he hums appreciatively. “Yeah. Vitamin D.” 

Jason sighs. “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did. Please stop stalling, Jay. We have an emergency here.”

The hood retracts, finally, exposing Jason’s face to the night. Dick touches his cheek, expression softening. His eyes grow heavy.

“Don’t worry, Nightwing,” Jason says, voice low and soft. He leans until their lips brush. “I’ll save you.”


	4. everything i never could keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** Vietnam war draft AU?
> 
>  **Reply:** rated t for this one had legs and nearly ran away from me!

Dick spent most of the week working through his plan. Time, place, map route, even parking—Dick had worked through each avenue in the finest detail long before the letter from the government arrived. Long before it burned a hole in his back pocket and his chest, he knew what to do and what to say. Then Saturday morning rolled around, and a simple question stopped him on the way out the door.

“Where are you going?”

Turning, Dick found Bruce paused at the top of the twin staircase. He stared at Bruce who stared in return. The silence stretched, hesitant, anticipating, and still Dick didn’t have anything to say. He had a script in mind for the people he’d meet today, the officers and the crowds, but not Bruce. Finally, Dick blurted an answer. “Out. Meeting some friends.” 

Bruce glanced down at the rucksack in his hands and his expression tightened. “Out,” he repeated. “With friends.”

“I should be back late this evening.”

“You should be.” The inflection in Bruce’s voice said he found the statement highly suspect. He continued down the stairs. “Dick, do you recall that incident the summer of your first year at the manor?”

“What?” Dick’s face screwed up in confusion before the memory returned to him. A boy aged nine so angry, so lost, and willing to run off and rejoin the circus. “Oh no, Bruce. This isn’t anything like that—”

“Perhaps, but do you recall what I said on our return from the bus station.”

“Yeah.” Dick’s lashes flutter and he can feel the sun beaming through the car window, the feel of leather against his cheek. His fears slowly draining away. “You said that that even when I’m feeling low, I should ‘endeavor to make good decisions.’ The kind of good that leads me down the right path.”

Bruce’s smile was small, made sad by the look in his eye. “And do you remember what you said to me?”

“I asked you what endeavor means. And you said it meant to try,” Dick said, the memory of Bruce’s voice echoing in his head. “Simply try.” 

It had been so long ago, a lifetime now, but he can still remember the way those words fell upon him, this weighty feeling in his chest that or a moment, seemed to push aside the sadness.

“Go out then. Make good choices. The kind that leads you down the right path.”

“And what’s that Bruce? That’s probably the question I should’ve asked you back then.”

“Whatever it is that will bring you home, Dick.”

Dick swallowed back a wave of nervous tension. “Don’t worry, Bruce. I’m coming home.”

As reassurances go, it wasn’t the best. His throat felt too tight and the voice too sharp, too thin, a promise that couldn’t be kept. Bruce rested a hand on his shoulder, and while it was a steadying gesture, a method of comfort that worked many times before, it rang with the same hollow promise.

Dick parked a little over a mile from the rally’s location and walked towards midtown Gotham. He reached the corner of Harvey and 46th where he waited nervously shifting the rucksack on his shoulder. Inside, the wooden sign posts clacked together. The streets were already filled with people. Like Dick, they were young, angry, frightened, hopeless.

Deciding to attend the day’s rally hadn’t been easy. The student organizers had emboldened him with their passion, their desire to protest, and Dick wanted to do the same. He dared to use his voice for good.

He just wasn’t sure if it mattered anymore, now that he got the letter.

“So, little Dickie Grayson made it to the party.”

Dick turned at the sound of his name. Even with a dirty red sweater and sweaty brow Jason Todd looked right as rain. The twist in Dick’s gut settled and he smiled. “Hey Jaybird. I was worried I wouldn’t find you.”

Jason closed the distance between them, grimacing. “Don’t call me that,” he said. “And where else was I gonna be on a Saturday?”

“Work?”

“Oh, so you do know what that is. I was starting to wonder.”

“Of course I know what work is,” Dick said, and then he shifted, vowels elongating to the posh tones that had unexpectedly become normal in his life. “It is what the plebeians engage in between their bread and circus.” He waved his hand in the air while Jason knocked his shoulder lips curled to smother his laugher.

It was their same banter, the give and take that made Dick seek Jason out after they first met. But today, Jason’s eyes are a little too wide like he’s taking everything in at once. It was a feeling Dick knew way to well. That letter in his pocket felt like a stone dragging him down in a world that moved too fast. He’d miss something important if he’d blinked. He was missing far too many things already, Jason included, and he was standing right in front of him.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh at the little people when you haven’t worked a day in your life since age ten,” Jason groused. He waited for a reply, but Dick only looks away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just. I think I have a job coming my way soon,” Dick said, voice soft.  
“Old Man Wayne finally putting his foot down, huh?”

Dick cleared his throat. “I think you mean Uncle Sam.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“You know I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Jason,” Dick said, surprised by the heat in his voice. He brought his gaze back to Jason’s face, which had paled in the wane spring sun. “I got my letter in the mail.” 

He reached into his jean pocket and pulled out the envelope. He unfolded it slowly amazed with how deeply embedded the creases had become in such a short time. He had sat on the floor of his mansion home and opened and closed it over and over again. 

The words never changed.

Jason snatched the envelope from him and ripped the letter free. He took in the letterhead and the official request pounded out by a federal typewriter in the Selective Service System. His hands, so steady and sure, began to tremble. 

“This is. This is the real thing. But you can’t go! It’s. It’s bullshit. Dick. Dickie.” A hard shove. “You listening to me?”

The letter drifted to the ground. A tiny puff of air caught it carrying it between passersby. It landed on the sidewalk where the moisture began seeping into the sheet blurring the ink. If he just lets it sit there, if he lets the next foot trample over the words and the water wash away his name, Richard John Grayson, nothing would change. It’d still be recorded somewhere that Richard John Grayson is being drafted into the war. In three weeks, he’d still be expected for his induction. There was no escape. He didn’t deserve escape. In a long line of fortunate happenstance, Dick was finally about to pay his due. Dick shoved past Jason to get to the latter snatching it from the ground before another sole could walk over it. A fist curled into his lapels and jerked him upright.

“What the fuck was that?” Jason growled. He dragged Dick away from the street giving him no time to answer. They pushed through the thinning crowd, Jason striding angrily, Dick trotting a half step behind trying to shake the dirt from his official government draft letter.

They were turning at a corner when Dick looked up again. The cultivated Gotham streets had become closer, the roadway narrower. Suddenly, Jason dragged him into the dark alleyway between two buildings. The air changed becoming rank, stagnant water and rotting food heavy around them. Steam burst from a basement window. They make it all the way to the dead end before Jason slings Dick against a wall. The brick was hard, unyielding even, scraping Dick’s palms and his lower back, no longer protected by his shirt and denim jacket. But the brick was still more forgiving than Jason’s gaze.

“Forty-thousand. Forty-thousand, Dickie. That’s how many people they draft every month. How many of them have come back?” Jason shook his head. “And now they want you? _You_? You’re… you’re useless.”

“Jason. Jason come on.” He’s interrupted by a growl and an abortive shove from Jason, who’s prowling side to side pulling at his dark hair, a wild look in his green eyes.

Not for the first time Dick recalled that Jason was dangerous. Jason’s friends called him “Killer Red,” while Dick’s friends called him a hustler, and in the year they’ve known each other, Dick hadn’t found either to be a lie. Brash and kind, cunning and honest, guarded but so loyal it had nearly hurt Dick to realize he’d earned Jason’s trust the night he’d arrived at Jason’s corner to find him on his knees, mouth bloody, body bruised and helped him on his feet. One moment of kindness and they’d become something better together.

“Calm down.”

“No,” Jason snarled. He crowded forward grinding their foreheads together tightly. His breath washed hot and wet across Dick’s lips. “You’re some rich man’s charity case, a college dropout, a pretty face with no idea what goes on in the real world. And you’re the only fucking thing I care about in this city. No. You’re not going to be drafted,” Jason announced, eyes flashing. “I won’t let you.”


	5. To the Red Mobile!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Pls right a snippet on the "Red Mobile"... Please...
> 
> the tags: #DICK BUYS JASON A CAR #DUBS IT THE #RED MOBILE #JASON DOES NOT SET IT ON FIRE BECAUSE IT'S AWESOME #BUT HE WISHES HE COULD TO PROVE A POINT #AND THE POINT IS THIS CAR IS TOO FUCKING SMALL TO BE FOOLING AROUND IN #DICKIE #DICK *HOINST HIS LEG STRAIGHT UP AND OVER JASON'S SHOULDER* #IS THAT A CHALLENGE?

When the steel doors roll back from Jason’s secret vehicle bay, Dick is lying in wait across the cherry red hood of a vintage sports car. He looks up, a smug grin playing across his handsome mouth, and spins to his knees. A silk robe swings prettily around his thighs. “Tada!”

Jason pauses at the garage entrance, speechless. It’s a good look for him, Dick thinks, pink-eared and shocked. Jason regains his bearing before trotting down the steps a little too quickly compared to his typical devil-may-care chalance. He glances at the car and then glares at Dick with narrowed eyes. “What the actual fuck is going on here?”

“Allow me to introduce you to the Red Mobile,” Dick says in his best show barker’s voice. He pets the hood gently. “A Lucius Fox-certified, vigilante machine with a modified Koenigsegg Agera R engine—that’s twin turbochargers and a little something special I cooked up—all within the body of a—”

“1954 Fiat Turbina,” Jason finishes, voice reverent. He walks around the car slowly, and Dick can tell he’s impressed because Jason’s stubbornly refusing to look at him or the way his robe gapes at the chest revealing smooth skin. Jason circles the car slowly, peering into the tinted windows to see the leather seating and the faint glow of the mounted dash computer and lights replacing the original gauges. “A classic until you ruined it with all your flashy upgrades.”

“Ruined?”

“Fine, the outer shell is a pristine restoration, but all the tech you stuffed in here.” Jason trails away searching for a convincing argument. “It’s unnecessary.”

Dick tilts his head then shrugs. “I think it’s rather practical in our line of work.”

“Practically bring the historical value of this car down to zero.” Jason traces the chrome detailing before standing, arms across his chest. “OK, I’ll bite, Dickie. Why is this car in my garage?”

Dick grins. “It’s called the Red Mobile. Why do you think?”

“I think you’ve adopted a lot of Bruce Wayne’s bad habits over the years including the use of extravagant gifts to head off bad news,” Jason says, voice flat.

“Fair point,” Dick says, deciding to unpack that issue later. “But I was thinking along the lines of a new dynamic duo being in town and how traveling in a car might be safer at times.”

Jason groans. “Okay, look, it was the one time. And I was seriously not prepared for you fucking attacking my cock while we were going 100 plus on a turbo charged motorcycle in the middle of the expressway.”

“Attacking, Jay? Really?”

“How would you describe it?”

The question puts Dick on his back foot, but only for a moment. It had been in the heady early days when they were starting to understand what this thing between them was and what it could be. The innuendo, the chase, the excitement, the challenge in Jason’s voice when he told Dick there wasn’t anything Dick could surprise him. When Jason jerked the handlebars then overcorrected sending them careening through the divide, cursing and laughing all at once, Dick knew he’d spend the rest of his life bringing that unexpected joy to Jason’s life—minus the life and death rush. Most of the time.

Dick grins. “I was trying to get a rise out of you.”

Jason’s gaze darkens for a moment and then it breaks, like the sun breaching clouds. “Okay, fine. You did it again. You fucking surprised me.”

“You like it?”

“I love it, Dickie. You know I do. You knew I would.” Jason finally steps close until they’re leaning into one another, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. “How could I possibly thank you?”

Humming, Dick curls his fingers into Jason’s hair tugs. “A kiss would be a nice start.”

Life and rebirth has honed Jason into a fine blade made to strike straight and true in everything he does. His kiss is no different, firm, demanding, a tangle of taste and touch that steals Dick’s breath away every time. He moans when Jason lifts him from the hood and backs towards the door. He wraps his legs around Jason’s power thighs halting the movement.

“Where are we going?” Dick asks.

“Bedroom. I can think of a few more things I’d like to thank you for right now. Thoroughly.” Jason’s hands sweep over Dick’s bottom and squeezes. It feels so good, Dick moans and nips at Jason’s lips. But still.

“Right now?” Dick pouts. “What about a test drive?”

“I’m not fucking you in my new car, Dick,” Jason says.

“Why not?” Dick knows he sounds affronted, but he doesn’t care.

“Were you not here for the first part of this conversation? I have no desire to have any of your family identify our charred remains in a ditch somewhere and have to explain why you died with my dick in your mouth,” Jason explains patiently. “Plus, it’s the only car I have right now, and I don’t want to wreck it before I get a chance to put it through the paces.”

Dick has a quip on his tongue, something about also needing to be put through paces, but Jason’s comment has him eager to reveal the next surprise. 

“It’s a good thing I got you another one then, huh?”

Jason’s jaw drops. “What did you just say?”

Pressing a quick kiss to Jason’s mouth, Dick accesses his homemade bridge into Red Hood’s security system. The third pendant light flickers on revealing a shadow in the corner. Jason stalks over to the familiar shape of crafted metal under thin white material. 

He shifts Dick’s weight in his arms before reaching out for the edge of the car cover and yanking it free. Underneath is the stunning lines of an Italian sports car painted in a similar style as the Red Mobile, crisp white and cherry red.

“Holy shit,” Jason whispers. “Holy shit, Dick Grayson, you sonnovabitch. What is that?”

Dick hides a smirk against Jason’s chest because he’s definitely getting a rise out of Jason this time and it’s hard, hot, and pressing against Dick’s bare thigh.

“That one’s for the weekend. It’s a Pagani Huayra Lampo and hey!” Dick gasps when he’s released from Jason’s warm hold. He slides down the warm body feeling every inch of Jason’s arousal through the soft fabric. The second his feet hit the floor, Jason tilts his head up so their gazes meet, and Jason is beautiful, perfect, an inferno.

Jason stares into his eyes and says very seriously, “I want you naked and bent over the hood of that car in ten seconds.”

Dick is ready in three.


	6. The Name Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for last year's jaydick week prompt day 6: Knights/Royalty AU. Inspired by [this tumblr post](http://paperempires.tumblr.com/post/166589584188/writing-smut-like) that made me say, hold my beer.

Although the royal ball is four days away, guests from across Gotham Kingdom have begun arriving some two weeks in advance. Those who traveled from beyond the black seas or through the winding Iron woods had arrived as much as a full month ago. And it has been Jason’s misfortune to have been assigned the duty of Royal Guard for the ladies of court who have taken the southern wing as their own. His duties are nothing more than keeping watch over the salon door, but the shift of standing guard is far harrowing than anything he’s experienced.

And if he’s posted there for keeping unwanted attentions out or the ladies therein separate from polite society, well, Jason is no longer sure.

A strident voice pushes past the thick stone wall and oak hewn door to land at Jason’s ear. He winces. They’ve started on their favorite topic again. 

“But has anyone in this room come close to seeing it?”

“It?”

“Yes, yes, it!”

“The measure of his princely duties.”

“His countenance and vigor.”

“The gold scepter that weighs heavily above the royal jewels.”

“Wait, wait,” calls a confused voice. “Do you speak of the prince’s royal di—”

The room erupts in shrill giggles, from beneath someone shouts, “Oh, Anastasia, no!”

“What? I was going to say the prince’s royal birthing dirk that was gifted to him at his name day?”

“Well, I most certainly have seen that. The prince wears it at his hip, and it is jeweled as outrageously as the Duke of Queensland’s codpiece!”

The ladies titter and rustle like songbirds in the trees.

“The women of the Siren Falls are quite blunt are they not, Lady Dinah?”

“Well, then, what should I have said? I much prefer the prince’s way, although he is almost unbearably genteel. Barely a hand out of place when we’ve toured the gardens.”

“You say that but, when the prince accompanied me to the Festival of Jokes and Riddles, the clasp of my necklace broke free–”

“Helena, what does that have to–”

“–and fell into my bodice.”

“Aaah.” More rustling as if great wings shifted to huddle near.

She continues her story in a voice so compelling, Jason finds himself shifting closer to the salon wall.

“The prince pulled the glove from his hand with his teeth and entreated me to forgive his impertinence. Then he fished my diamonds from between my breast as quick as you please.”

“Quick would not please me!” Laughter rings gaily at the comment, but the storyteller would not be deterred.

“I still recall the way he felt against my back,” Helena continues, spurring a small ocean of gasps to fly free. “The feel of his lips against my ear and his fingers about my neck as he placed the necklace upon me. I think about it all the time. I think I felt it,” she says in a reverent voice.

“It? No!”

"She lies!"

"Her imagination has simply gotten away from her."

“As it stands, how would you speak on the prince’s manner and his measure?”

“Oh so very warm, like the fires of winter, and his measure is beyond compare.”

“Bah! You mean there is little to compare it too!” The laughter is bright and echoing down the hall.

“So true, my Lady Barbara. Who could stand to the prince? Who would we compare him to?” Protests a gentle voice.

“The bard’s songs do much to herald his exploits. And one might consider them wild fabrications until you meet the prince." Lady Barbara sighs with heartfelt delight. "Oh, but when you meet the prince, you know the songs must be true.”

“I’ve heard the prince’s husbandly raiment described as The Red Jewel of Conquest and the Triple Tongued Diplomat, for he will take you with extraordinary swiftness and have you begging for peace.”

“I’ve heard he wields his princely duties like the fabled Sword that Cannot be Held. One thrust, and you are sure to swoon in a fit of rapturous pleasure.” She rolls her r’s extravagantly.

“In my lands it is said that his celestial splendor takes the form of carved Atlantean sea stone.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Then let me explain. It is never flagging and always pleasing to the touch.”

“Aaaah!”

As if summoned, the subject of the room’s conversation turns down the corridor. Jason pushes away from the door and rushes to adopt the appropriate posture of an honor guard while his heart races in his chest. 

It is true, Prince Richard of Gotham is as handsome as the bards described, is perhaps more charming and mesmerizing than even the ladies suggest, but his beauty is not why his people love him.

Prince Richard smiles once he sees he has caught Jason’s eye and greets him heartily. “Well met, ser knight!” He begins walking more swiftly to meet him. As he comes closer, his smile widens. “Ah ha. I thought it was you, Ser Todd, and I will greet you again by saying, well met, Ser Todd.”

Jason nods his head. “Your highness.”

“I’ve come to seek an audience with the visiting ladies, for I have heard more arrived today, and I thought I might have the glory of their smiles and the sweetness of their words rain upon me.”

Gasps chorus beyond the door and then there is but silence.

Jason holds up his hand arresting Prince Richard’s path to the salon. “If I might beg your highness’s pardon, none shall pass through these doors.”

Prince Richard steps forward bracing himself against Jason’s palm.

“Is that so?”

Jason pretends that this touch is not searing through his body. Instead he nods. “I am afraid it is so, your highness. The rules were quite clear. Not even you may pass. The women’s quarters are their own.” 

In fact, Jason recalls his majesty expressly saying Prince Richard not set one foot within the ladies’ salon for fear of starting a war of succession.

“Well, well. I did not think one of the royal guards would oppose me here, but I must say.” Prince Richard’s voice drops soft. “I am most proud of my little wing’s courage.”

Their eyes meet, and Jason quite suddenly realizes that he’s staring down at the prince, a startling change in position to be sure. But it has been months since they’d last seen each other with Richard leading a charm offensive at sea and Jason patrolling the southern boarders where the sands ran as freely as the rivers. 

“If it is my father’s will then I should obey,” he continues loudly, “Though I demand recompence for this denial of my will. Ser Todd, I would see you in the training circle. It is said that you wield a heavy blade upon which is written the invisible scripture of triumph. One look drives the strongest of men to their knees.” 

Jason’s jaw drops in dismay. The rumors seem to have followed him from the southern campaign after all. “Oh, your highness. I apologize, but that is not true. I did not come by a magic sword. It is but a simple blade, straight and true.”

Richard smiles gently, but his eyes sweep down Jason’s body, calculating. “I fear that it is most true, ser knight. Yet with this knowledge I find myself more eager to test my sword against yours.”

Jason very much tries to hold back the flush from his cheeks, though he does not feel successful in this. “Of course. It would be an honor, your highness.”

The prince gives him a jaunty salute then spins on his heel disappearing the exact way he came. And Jason knows this for he followed the Prince’s departure with dazed eyes.

Behind the heavy door, the weighted silence takes the form of shrill and sudden laughter.


	7. cheerjobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inspired by tags i wrote after seeing paperdollteeth's cheerleader designs for jason, dick, and tim. dick is not nice in this fic, but i don't think that's gonna stop anyone from enjoying themselves. it certainly doesn't stop jason.

The lights of the old rec-league stadium have shut down, and all but two students remain after the powderpuff football game’s end.

Dick waits for the last of the cars to disappear from the parking lot before stepping out of the shadows. He leans against the empty bleachers, lollipop swirling between his bright cherry lips, and studies the lone figure casting sad eyes on the field. There’s no telling what Todd is thinking right now, but Dick can imagine he’s lost in memories, pee-wee league, childhood dreams and other lost things. Well, the poetry always revealed Jason Todd as a sentimental sap beneath the strapping muscles and attitude.

“What are you still doing here, Todd?” His voice startles the former tight-end out of his reverie.

“Dick. Fuck.” Jason groans, wiping the surprise from his face. “Don’t you have some party to orchestrate.”

“I arrive when I think the party should start,” Dick says, with a toss of his hair. “You should know that by now.”

Jason grunts, unamused. “Then why are you still here?”

“I have the keys.” Dick twirls the stadium keys around his fingers before pocketing them. “Can’t leave until everyone else does. And maybe I wanted to invite you to the party. You look like you need it.”

“Party? With you?” Jason tilts green eyes his direction, then stands, head waving side to side. He gathers his pompoms and then, after a long pause like he’s debating whether to just leave it and go, his varsity jacket. “Nah. I’d like to say it’s been fun, but it wasn’t. Last time I ever do you a favor.”

Dick just gives a long, slow pull on the sucker until it slides out of his mouth with a wet pop. “Hey Todd, do you give head?”

Jason’s instantly rooted to the creaky bleachers trying his damndest not to sputter. He sounds breathless when he sputters, “Grayson? What the fuck, man?” 

Watching Jason’s face slide from scornfully amused to gobsmacked fills Dick with glee. It’s always been so hard to get under Jason Todd’s skin. Since the day they’ve met, Jason has worn a thin layer of controlled calm that irked Dick. No one should be that serene when holding a chip on their deliciously wide shoulders. But he has Jason today. 

Wicked grin in place, Dick climbs the bleachers step by step until he’s above Jason. He does a little twirl, skirt fluttering as he sits on the wooden bench. “I thought I’d reward you for helping me out today,” Dick explains. “No one else was willing to jump into a skirt and cheer for the girls except you. And I know it couldn’t be easy because of the. Well.” He smiles sympathetically at Jason’s shoulder.

Jason jerks backwards. “You fucking assh—”

“You can suck me if you want,” Dick interrupts just to see the color bloom on Jason’s cheeks. He flips his skirt displaying his lean thighs and neon blue bloomers. 

There’s a mess of conflicted emotions on Jason’s face, indecision, anger, disbelief. 

“Come on. No one’s gonna know. It’s just me. And you. And I won’t tell.” He folds the bloomers down twice and then slides them from under his bottom. The wood is worn and soft beneath him. 

Their eyes meet in the half-dark, and maybe Dick should be more sensitive to Jason’s position, the tragedy of the past six months with the drunk driver and his injury, the dread in his eyes. But Dick’s wanted this for a while. He knows this is his time. He can feel it. The silence stretches on and on, and then, without warning, Jason drops to his knees so fast the bleachers shake. Dick bites off a triumphant laugh. It’s exactly the kind of reaction he’s been expecting. Jason isn’t dumb, and he knows this isn’t the kind of invitation just anyone will receive from Richard Grayson.

Dick just sucks on his lollipop amused by the stricken awe on Jason’s face. He keeps sucking while Jason paws clumsily at his bloomers. It’s funny to him because Jason is such a hardass, but he goes to his knees so easily, apparently. And the only person who knows is Dick Grayson.

“Take a fucking breath, babe, it’s embarrassing,” Dick laughs, slapping Jason’s hands away to slip the bloomers down to his knees. Laughs when Jason huffs and growls but doesn’t turn his gaze away. Sucks hard at the sweet cherry slick sliding down his throat when he tugs his jock to the side, revealing his heavy cock. He watches Jason lick his lips. 

The hurt moan Jason releases should come with a warning. Dick curls his hand into the cheerleader shell straining across Jason’s broad back. “Oh. Oh, shit. Todd,” he whispers, eyes locked on those frowning lips sliding down his length. “Yeah. Like that.”

He just never expected Jason to be okay at it. Okay? Scratch okay. He never thought Jason would be this good. Scratch good. He never thought Jason would slurp on his cock like a man dying of thirst. Like Jason crawled over three deserts on his belly just to taste of Dick’s oasis. He’s always known of his own oral fixation, but Jason gives him a run for his money. Jason strokes the length of his cock once and then licks a long, hot stripe from where his fist chokes up Dick’s cock to the flushed head. And then he suck and sucks, slurps and licks, eager and so, so fucking hot.

But it can be better. For Dick at least. Jason looks like he’s found his own personal moment of zen.

Dick carefully take the hand Jason has clenched on his thigh and starts sliding it down. Down the sensitive spread of his inner thigh, which twitches and tingles as the calloused fingertips drag. Down past the base of his cock where Jason’s lips are purse before spreading open, tongue flat and gliding back to the head. Dick tugs two fingers and slides them behind his balls.

Jason jerks away, eyes wide. “Dude. Seriously. What the fuck!?”

“Hey. Hey. Relax, babe. You can’t fuck it if you can’t touch it,” Dick hisses, forcing Jason’s fingers back in place. He circles them against his hole, moaning softly when Jason begins to move on his own. “Yeah, yeah. Just like that.”

Dick scrubs his hands over Jason’s hair and squeezes the back of his neck, encouraging him to take a little more, suck a little deeper, give Dick a little more pleasure. He’s so close, so, close, so close.

A thought strikes him.

“Hey, Todd?” He waits until Todd’s lust-glazed eyes open. “Do you swallow?”

Those pretty green eyes glower at Dick, and they are Dick’s undoing. Combined with the hard sucking on the head of his cock, the knuckles dragging against his perineum and the sloppy fingers digging at his hole, Dick comes. Jason pulls away with a gasp. Hot come spills from his lips, spatters against his cheeks, and Dick jerks against the bleachers feeling helplessly alive. 

“Fuck that was so good. So good. I knew you’d be good at it, Todd. You’re good at everything.” Dick gasps, spread his arms over the stands. Jason blushes. He’s quiet while Dick pulls himself back together, and almost docile when Dick pulls out another wipe to clean his messy face. 

Shock, Dick thinks, looking down at him.

“Come on,” he says, tugging Jason to his feet. “I’m taking you home. Then I’m going to return the favor.”

“What about the part?y” Jason asks, dully. Dazed maybe.

Dick grins wickedly. “Didn’t you know, babe? I am the party.”


	8. strange sympathies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mommy Dick | rated e | a/b/o universe, dirty talk, impregnation kink, lactation kink, implied m-preg (but I still don’t roll that way guys, sorry) | i believe this one is yours cherry!

Once the final bit of news had been conveyed, Damian rose to his feet, diaper bag in hand. He clapped Dick’s shoulder gently and smiled. “It’s time that we departed.”

“But you just got here,” Dick protested, tugging Damian into a hug. 

“It has been three-quarters of an hour, Grayson. The drive back to the manor is quite long when you must obey traffic laws.” Damian turned to the dark-head bobbing at his feet. “We are leaving. Please collect your things.”

A small, slightly damp hand wrapped around Dick’s hand and began stumbling toward the door. Dick blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. He felt a strong pull on his emotions whenever Damian’s son did something unbearable cute, and it was quite often these days.

Twice a week, Dick watched over Donovan-Javed and he loved every moment they shared. Perhaps he was predisposed to adore a toddler with soft black hair, icy blue eyes, and a stubborn set to his jaw even when drinking from a bottle. And it seemed that DJ, as Dick called him, adored Dick too. It made parting difficult. Normally, Jason would be right beside him offering moral support, but he was in the bedroom with a knee injury. Dick had to search for his own strength and withstand silent pleas.

He crouched to meet the DJ’s solemn gaze. “I’m sorry, DJ, but Uncle Dick can’t come with you tonight.”

Frowning, Damian settled the travel bag over his shoulder. “Honestly, Grayson, my son has a name. Use it.”

DJ’s little face scrunched into a frown so much like his father, Dick’s chest ached. He blinked slowly as if considering Dick’s words. He toddled away after a moment and then, after securing his father’s attention, raised his arms towards. Damian lifted him to rest on one shoulder. They both turned to stare down at Dick with twin expressions of expectant superiority. Dick quickly turned his betrayed expression into a pleasant grin.

“Well that was quicker than last time,” Dick said to hide the way his heart had cracked in two.

“As it should be,” Damian said, voice serene. “Thank you for allowing us into your home. Will we see you at the manor this weekend?”

“Yes. Yes, we will be there,” Dick said, drowning out Jason’s protests.

“I look forward to seeing you both at dinner. Grayson. Todd. Say good bye, Donovan-Javed.” His son slowly waved at Dick and his chubby cheeks jiggled as he sputtered and grinned.

After securing the door, Dick rested his head against the wooden frame. He ached all over now, but the pain resonated in his chest, curling there heavy and alive. Already the near Pavlovian need to check every penthouse clock began so he could know the exact second DJ would return.

Jason’s voice cut through the growing miasma of yearning that began to fill the air.

“Get in here,” he called. “Now.”

Dick sighed heavily before shuffling back to their bedroom. He wouldn’t have ignored the request even if he tried.

Jason rested at the center of the bed. His left knee was carefully propped on a stabilizing pillow, and his right hand cradled the spine of another book. Jason pulled a pen from behind his ear and placed it inside the page to mark his place. He set the book atop the stack resting on the night stand, then pat his thighs. Dick never let that invitation go to waste. He climbed onto the mattress and spread his weight over Jason’s lap, mindful of his injuries. Jason’s hands curved over Dick’s thighs and hips, and Dick covered them, preventing any motion above the waist. He relaxed when Jason stilled.

“Come on. Tell me what’s wrong.” Jason said, after Dick settled.

“There’s nothing wrong, Jay. It’s just. You know how it is,” Dick replied. “It’s biology.” He meant the word to come out lightly, as easy as if Jason had asked for a reference number or where the maple syrup disappeared too, but the weight remained in his chest and his voice was made heavy by the feeling.

Jason’s eyes met his and they were calm and quite serious. “You know that’s not true.”

“It is. It’s just biology and the season.” His hands circle listlessly. “I’m just feeling out of sorts.”

Jason frowned, plucking at the hem of Dick’s shirt. Dick squeezed his wrists, stalling the motion. “We both know you’re not ‘just’ anything, baby. This is the time for straight talk, alright?”

“Jay."

“Come one, Dickie. I have an idea what’s going on. I can guess, but I’d rather you tell me.”

“It’s. Little wing.” Dick’s excuses trailed away like smoke the moment they hit his tongue. The worst thing was Jason’s expression. Rather than smug arrogance, Jason’s face remained supportive. His soft eyes were for Dick alone. He wanted Dick to talk to him, and Dick wanted the same thing in return. He’d been dubbed “Mr. Communicate” by Jason after all, but this topic left him feeling strangely vulnerable. He’d been contemplating different reasons for his emotional state. It was the tail end of mating season, and his subconscious desires were manifesting in ways he never thought he’d ever consider. Ways he never wanted to explain. 

“Fine,” Jason says. He fingers Dick’s t-shirt. “Take this off for me.”

The surety in his voice made Dick believe that Jason did know. He hadn’t wanted to keep anything from Jason, but at the same time, this thing between them continued to be the best thing to happen to his life in a long time. Selfish as it might be, Dick didn’t want that to change. Dick’s arms crossed at his waist. He curled fingers into his dark tee and drew the material up and over his head, tossing it to the side with a sigh. He kept his gaze down while Jason studied him and the gauze crisscrossing his chest.

“I’m going to take this off, okay?” Jason waited for Dick to grant permission before tugging the cloth free. It unspooled quickly, falling across Dick’s thighs. Then Jason carefully peeled two damp pads from Dick’s nipples. Dick moaned softly when they were exposed, rosy pink and shining wetly in the lamplight.

“I wish you didn’t think you had to hide this from me.”

Dick closed his eyes. “Me too,” he whispered. He didn’t mean to hide from Jason. He just didn’t know how to explain it to himself let alone his mate. 

“Baby, come on. It’s nothing you need to be ashamed of.”

“I know. It's just weird. To me," he says, heading off Jason's protests. "I did some research. It’s Sympathetic lactation, symlac, and. I think my body is trying to tell me something. I just wish I knew what.” His wry laugh shifted into a choked gasp when tender fingers probed at his chest. Every touch felt like a lightning bolt pulling tight at his belly. Jason caught the tip of one rosy nipple between two fingers and squeezed once, gently, and then harder a second time tugging at the end only to do it again. Dick squirmed on his lap, hands curling over Jason’s shoulders to steady himself. He moaned as his milk began to dribble free.

Jason made a hungry sound in this throat, and Dick whimpered. The strong clamp on his nipples increased and relaxed rhythmically. Jason’s nails scrape below his navel sending a pleasant shock up Dick’s spine. He flushed as the tart-sweet scent of his slick rose in the air. 

"Can I?" Jason asked, voice soft. Dick nodded and his hands came up to cup Jason's cheeks when he took a pink nipple into his mouth. He hadn't expected it to feel this good, Jason sucking sweetly, groaning hungrily while his hands massaging up and down his back. But it did feel good, better when Jason began to need and pluck and squeeze his chest. The pleasure resonnated through his body. He was wet with slick when Jason finally pulled away. 

"Jason," he whispered. "Jason, please." 

“Oh sweetheart,” he crooned. “I hear exactly what your body’s saying. It wants you to ride my knot until I knock you up.”

Whimpering, Dick curled forward, chin to chest letting the future remain distant and focusing on the moment and how much that statement reverberated through him like a bell. 

They’d had the discussion before, years ago. Dick hadn’t been ready then. He can’t say he’s ready now even after knowing what his body craved, even after grappling with the symlac for two weeks. But a large part of him wanted exactly what Jason suggested, the thick, swelling pulse of life beating inside of him. He glanced into Jason’s patient eyes and nodded.

At Jason’s silent urging, Dick rose to his to his knees and his sweatpants rolled down his hips.

“I’m on my suppressants,” he whispered unsure if the words were a warning or a protest. “And your leg.”

“I know, sweetheart. Doesn’t mean we can’t practice for when you’re ready. Only when you’re ready.” His tugged at Dick’s nipple and fondled over Dick’s cock, stroking light and teasing until it started to leak too. 

Dick bucked, eyes fluttering. He let himself sink into the gentle touches fluttering over skin. His head lulled to the side, floating on pleasure so consuming he almost didn’t register the fingers skating over his slick folds until he’d been breached. His mouth drops open, a deep gasp rising through the air. 

“As for my leg. Well, you’ll be doing all the work tonight. But you like it that way, don’t you?”

Dick nodded, relief mixing with his arousal. “Then. I want you to. Jason. I want you to.” He cried out when Jason’s hard cock nudged against him, dipping just inside then pulling away. Dick moaned, bereft. He moaned again, aching when Jason tipped their lips together. The kiss was gentle, melting. He felt the slick roll from the apex of his thighs. 

“Jason. Please.”

“You have to say it for me, baby.”

“I want….”

“What do you want?”

Dick blushed. “Jason.”

“You just have to tell me.”

It shouldn’t be so hard to say, but it was. It was. Dick squirmed from side to side while the imperfect pressure teased him. He could say it. Three words. Not even the hardest ones he’d ever shared with Jason. Dick took a deep breath.

“Jason. Alpha, please. I want your cock. I need it.”

“Oh that’s good Dickie. If I know what you want, I can give it to you. See.” Jason’s thumbs part Dick wide and the tip of his hard cock starts rutting against him. “Why do you want it?”

“I want.” Dick swallowed thickly. “I want you to. Knock me up.”

Pleasure, heavy and thick, filled him, inch by breathtaking inch. He sank backwards until he again rested in the cradle of Jason’s hips, filled with his hard cock. It felt so good, so good. So deep. The satisfaction he received being filled is sublime, and Dick reveled in it. He already felt the thick heat of Jason’s knot crowding at his entrance. And he wanted that so badly. 

“Look at me, Dickie.”

His eyes flew open, startled blue and brimming with tears. Jason brushed his cheek.

“It will be my pleasure.”

Jason’s hands bled heat into the small of Dick’s back, gentle, hard, possessive. He dragged Dick backwards and forwards as his hips curl up and down, a slow, deep fucking that had Dick’s stomach tight and his mouth open. He pressed at his belly searching for the source of the fire throbbing deep inside while bouncing prettily.

“That’s it, Dickie. That’s it. Keep moving with me. You ride so good, baby.”

Dick moaned, rolling his hips faster, dragging his body higher only to slam down on Jason’s fat cock. “Jason, Jason. Give it to me.”

“Take it. Take it. I’m gonna knot you. Gonna come inside you.” Jason breathed hotly. “Gonna put a baby inside you.”

“Yes. Yes. Jason.”

Sobbing, Dick clenched down and spurts hot, come from across his chest, sucking Jason deeper, milking his fat cock until Jason shudders, thickens and tied them together.


	9. this is not a coffee shop au. this is a tribute.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: jaydick, barrista, and coffee adict

“Good morning, Jason.”

Behind the bar, Jason stiffened. The morning rush completely sapped all his awareness of anything other than café, latte, extra, tall, whip, no whip, shaken and not stirred until he’d lost track of the time. He finished tracing a leaf into the froathing coffee foam before lifting his head. “Good morning, Mr. Grayson.”

Grayson loosened his charming smile the instant Jason met his gaze. “You can call me Dick. I’m sure I’ve said this before.”

It was a request he made at least five times a week since stumbling into the Java Jumble tucked a block away from the El in the charming Gotham neighborhood of Bottom's Down.

“Of course, Mr. Grayson. What can I get for you today?”

Grayson gave soft sigh, but his eyes twinkled under the warm café lights. He reached into his vest pocket pulling out a small piece of paper. The other workers paused in their own conversations and orders as Grayson prepared to recite today’s bizarre request. The hum of a challenge filled the air.

“I would like,” Grayson began, pouring each letter into the air with a gush of syrupy sweetness. “A half-caff frozen vanilla latte, with a fresh press mochapresso shot parfait style. Three frozen raspberry cream layers. Venti. No whip. And a hazelnut waffle straw.” Grayson snapped the paper close and folded it back into the small square. “Any questions?” He asked, leaning forward the tiniest bit.

“Yeah,” Jason drawled already buzzing from the challenge. “What name should I put on the cup?”

“Your own. And go ahead and add your number this time, because I’m wining this round,” Dick said, excitement lifting his words over the crowd murmurs. There were some people who hadn’t visited the café before and didn’t know of Grayson and Jason’s long-running challenge.

Maybe one day Dick would deliver an outrageous order that Jason could make, but today was not the day.

Jason slammed his fist on the counter sending a spoon flipping into the air. It arched high above the room before dropping into glass waiting in Jason’s other hand. “You’re on.”

The crowd of onlookers drifted back into their own world while Jason worked. After a few minutes of blending and balancing flavors using an experienced eye, he placed the drink on the counter. "I have a half-caff frozen vanilla raspberry parfait latte with a fresh press mochapresso shot for a Grayson," he says boredly.

Grayson steps forward, soft lips parted, only to stop when Jason twirls a plastic wrapped straw between his fingers. He offers Grayson a wicked grin. "I didn't forget the hazlenut," he says. "Go on. Tell me how good it is."

One sip, and Grayson's eyes snap open, electric and bright enough to light the room. "It's amazing," he whispers, then takes another sip. "How do you do it?"

Jason leans against the counter, smiling a little when Grayson mirrors him. "I'll tell you my secret," he drawls. "After you win the bet."


	10. we only come out at night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Can we have a jaydick prompt where one of them is a vampire just waiting to turn the other into a vampire?

“You have my permission, Dickie, come’on,” Jason whimpers, back arcing up from the warm sheets. “You’ve had it since I was seventeen.”

Dick runs the gleaming edge of his fangs down Jason’s tanned throat. He can taste the fear and it’s invigorating, filling Dick’s body with indolent need. “Stay still for me, baby,” he whispers before doing it again.

Jason’s soft entries turn deeper, strained. “Why do you gotta tease me all the time, coño?”

Dick pulls away to make his disapproval known. “I know what that means now.”

"Took you long enough." Jason takes advantage of the shift to push his jeans down to his knees. His fingers skate over the golden skin of his thigh. Dick doesn’t need to close his eyes to hear the sweet rush of Jason’s pulse there, echoed at his neck, inside his chest. “Anyway you want it. Come on. Isn’t it about time, coño?”

The sight sends a quick kick to Dick’s chest hard enough it feels like it should start beating again. He slides long fingers around Jason’s wrists jerking up to bang against the wall. A moan escapes those sweet lips, a quiet admittance to loving how Jason’s defiance is met by painful pleasure.

“I said stay still.” 

Jason shivers, then wiggles, humping his body along the soft sheets in a sinuous wave. His heavy lashes veil the blue of his eyes. "Make me," he rasps.

Dick's growl vibrates between them. Then he's spread across Jason laying quick nipping kisses across Jason's lips and neck until Jason squirms and then flattens against the sheet.

"Give me more," he gasps, mouth open and chasing after Dick's. But it's never enough. Dick shifts his weight until he's near hoving above Jason, until he squirms and flattens and clings to Dick's body, body rolling, grinding, begging without words when they've failed to give him what he wants. "Please. Please. Do it, Dickie. I know you don't but. I want it. Please. I do."

The problem is Dick does want it, wants Jason, in every way that’s being offered. Dick flows out of his clothing grin deepening at Jason’s quiet moan. He spreads over Jason’s body enjoying the tremble, the heat, the way they come together so perfectly now.

The problem is that despite sharing Dick’s blood, Jason still smells entirely human. Warm, young, the sharp iron of anger and the faint scent of decay that emanates from the living. Dick enjoys that scent too much to let it go, and that’s why he won’t give Jason the bite. At least not until the scent changes. 

Three more years, five years, thirty years, however long it takes for Jason to lose humanity’s luster, Dick will wait.

And then they can share eternity.


	11. Paging Dr. Grayson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: This election got me so stress as well that I'm making plans to hide in a bomb shelter when it's all finish. Also prompt jaydick hospital AU and your plans on traitor's lie

“No don’t. No, don’t. No, no, no!” The childish refrain reaches a fevered shriek and the boy jumps hard in his mother’s grasp while the needle is well enough away from the skin.

Stifling a sigh, Dick pulls away, reversing his grip on the needle before placing it back on the tray. It’s been like this for the last few minutes, Dick attempting to draw blood samples from a six-year-old boy who is deeply afraid of needles. Jaydon Alvaro, his young patient, tucks into his mom’s chest and starts crying, a shivery, heart tugging sound.

“Aye, miho, you’re okay.” Mrs. Alvaro rocks her son gently, dark eyes apologetic over his curly hair.

Dick turns to the shift nurse in attendance and gives her a wry smile. “Do you think we can pull Nurse Todd in here for a minute?”

Jennifer’s grin is half sympathetic, half knowing. “Give me two minutes and he’ll be down here.”

“We are so sorry,” Mrs. Alvaro says once Jennifer darts into the hall.

“It’s alright. Jaydon is trying his best. We just need a little extra manpower to keep him still.”

Jaydon curls into his mother tightly whimpering into her chest.

“He says he’s too scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Dick says, quietly. “You can’t figure out how brave you truly are if you’re not scared first. And Jaydon, you are very, very brave. You know how I can tell?” Jaydon twists his head. “Because you’re going to try again and we’re going to get it done this time.” He’s interrupted by a striking laugh. The door swings open and Nurse Todd swaggers in, tall, curly hair swing over gleeful blue eyes.

“I hear our resident boy wonder needs a little help,” Jason starts, eyes sweeping around the room. His demeanor changes abruptly, smile smoothing, stance attentive. “Buenos,” Jason says. “I’m Nurse Todd but you can call me Jason.”

Jaydon pulls away from his mother to look at the intruder. His head tilts back eyes widening when he finally reaches Jason’s smile. He scurries back under his mother’s chin, whispering something there.

Mrs. Alvaro laughs. “He says your name is very close to his. This is Jaydon.” She bounces her son gently until he turns around, tear streaked face a rosy pink.

Jason crouches before them bringing them eye to eye. “What’s wrong, Jaydon? This jerk giving you problems?” He points his thumb at Dick.

Jaydon’s eyes flicker over to Dick, and then he replies in a rough, teary Spanish. His voice is low, earnest, but he speaks so rapidly Dick can hardly keep up. It seems like his residency is slippery slope of clarity for Dick. His education has expanded beyond practicing medicine and forwarding his adopted family’s legacy, which is good. That's what it's supposed to do. But the residency is also forcing him to confront his willful ignorance and helping him understand all the things he does not know. There's a lot he doesn't know. All those years and he never sat down to learn another language, not really. He's recognizing all the things he doesn’t understand but wants to know better. His eyes cut over to Jason’s profile, the curve of his mouth and the way his hands explode into motion as he talks.

He sighs to himself. It’s definitely not the time. But he can chew on it later, outline a plan to tackle his poor Spanish again later.

Jason has the boy going now, laughing a little bit. He squirms excitedly then shakes his head, pointing his fingers straight at Jason’s nose. Both Jason and Mrs. Alvaro burst out laughing.

“What? What is it?” Dick asks, curious.

Jason rises slowly. “I said I’d beat his doctor up if he hurt him with the needle. And Jaydon said no, you were such a nice man and it’s not your fault he’s afraid of the needles. If I beat you up, he’s going to punish me.” Jason gives a mournful sound. “No ice cream for a week!”

“For a week, huh? That sounds terrible.”

“It’s the worst. So, how can I help you, Grayson?”

Dick walks them a few steps away so they can confer without alarming their small patient. “I’d like to try drawing from the pinky again, but I’m going to need your help keeping Jaydon still. That kid is strong as an ox.”

“You got it, boy wonder.”

Somehow, the nickname didn't sound so mocking today.

In the end, Jason makes the difference. His warm presences invites more laughter, provides a tangible reassurance that even Dick feels. Nestled between the strong nurse and his mother, Jaydon masters his fear enough to have his blood drawn. Oh he cried fat teardrops sliding down his cheeks between loud sobs, but he does it only twitching slightly beneath Jason’s hands. Dick is careful, doing his best to keep the needle out of sight and quickly filling the vials.

Jaydon even manages to open his eyes when Dick says he’s done and begins swabbing down the tiny finger. “That didn’t hurt so bad,” he says, voice crumbling.

“That’s because you were being brave,” says Dick and meets Jaydon’s weak smile with his own. The kid is something of a diplomat too, asking Dick to bandage the tiny pinprick on his finger and allowing Jason to choose the bandage.

When the Alvaros leave, plenty of effluent gratitude from the mother and a quick, shame-faced hug from the son, Dick feels a warm glow in his chest. The feeling is magnified when Jason grips his shoulder and squeezes gently.

“Good job there, doc.”

"Thank you, Nurse Tood." It's a struggle to keep his voice steady and free of pride, professional, but Dick manages. He hopes. There's a pause, another squeeze, and then comforting pressure drifts away.

"Call me Jason."

Dick startles, but Jason is already retreating down the hall, but the warmth of his touch lingers through the rest of Dick's rounds.


End file.
